In the Navy
by Nova-chan
Summary: How the Skipper first met his Little Buddy. Sorry! I didn't mean discontinued, I meant on hiatus so I can write this evil advertising essay. My bad! More up Wednesday!
1. The Prologue

NoV: This is my first ever Gilligan's Island fanfic! I am very obsessed with the show and bought all three seasons on DVD. I hope this story is enjoyable!

This fic is dedicated to the memory of a great friend I had growing up. We'll miss you, Bob Denver.

--

Well, recruitment was upon the navy again. And, for Captain Jonas Grumby, that meant another handful of softy kids for him to chisel out in his image. A bunch of momma's boys who, under his expertise and guidance, would become men.

After fighting for his country in World War II, he soon rose through the ranks and captained his own battleship. Now, in 1960, he had been a captain on the S.S. Gillis for five years, training new recruits for possible war.

This June was no different…….at first.

How proud he was when he got to stroll toward the "fresh Joe's" every year. How he put on an act, scowling and glaring at those frightened kids! It was a joy.

"All right, men!" he barked. A few of the new trainees jumped in surprise. The captain smiled inwardly. "Answer when I call your name." He flipped to the second page on his clipboard. "Abernathy, Jonathan."

"Here, sir!" the lad hollered from way down at the end of the line.

The captain nodded at him in approval. "Coleman, Scott."

"Aye, sir!" Coleman replied.

The process of role-call was going smoothly and quickly, until he got to the G's.

"Garret, Nathan."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"Gilligan, William," the captain said. Receiving no reply, he looked up from his clipboard and scanned the group. Then, bellowed, "Gilligan!"

A pale, skinny boy who was looking at his socks in amusement, jumped a foot into the air. Looking into the scowling eye of the captain, he squeaked, "Present!"

The captain shook his head in annoyance and continued the roll call.

When he was finished, he put the clipboard back on the deck chair. The salty air filled his senses to the brim with scents and chilly winds. This was the only place he ever wanted to be. "All right, men," he commanded, picking out individual groups for his tasks, "you three start swabbing the decks. You, you and you go about hoisting the sails. You five are on coal duty. The rest of you can return to your bunks. I'll call on you for the night shift." Before he could leave, the captain grabbed Gilligan by the collar. "Except for you. I have a special mandate for you to fill."

--

"My first day and I'm peelin' potatoes!" Gilligan grumbled, sitting in a dark closet scraping the skin off of what seemed to be hundreds of potatoes. "I could have done this without joinin' the navy!"

"And I don't want to hear any complaints, sailor!" the captain yelled through the tiny porthole that led into the room.

Gilligan folded his arms across his chest in exasperation. This navy business was just a big mistake!

--

NoV: So, what do you think so far? This is just the prologue. The real story has a lot more to it, and if anyone likes it, I'll post some more!


	2. The Brouhaha

Light channeled down the face of the mighty ship and onto the faces of the young men aboard. The S.S. Gillis had served two purposes ever since it had been built in 1945: one was to train new recruits for the navy; the other was to carry trade items such as oranges, paper, and iron to Lang Pao, Korea. There, the items would be traded for rice, indigo, and often rum to take back to California. Having so many young men aboard when much labor was needed to lift the heavy cargo was like killing two birds with one stone.

"All right, men," the captain roared, "today we're going to do some very basic exercises." The basic response from the crew was a low groan. "I'm sure you're all familiar with the side-straddle-hop." The captain counted out "One! Two! One! Two!" as the recruits did jumping jacks. He walked up and down the line with a steady eye, making sure that everyone was holding up to his full potential. He couldn't help notice, however that that Gilligan kid was awfully, awfully uncoordinated.

Gilligan, on the other hand, couldn't help notice how close the two guys on each side of him were. Or maybe it was because his arms were too long. Whichever misfortune it was, on every "One!" he would smack the two guys going up, and on every "Two!" he would smack them going down.

After two or three of these "thumping jacks," the apathetic guy on Gilligan's right moved away from him. The guy on the left, however, took offense and shoved the Gilligan, unintentionally shoving him into the apathetic guy, turning him into the merciless guy.

The apathetic turned merciless guy, who, Gilligan noticed, was wearing a green handkerchief in his breast pocket, pulled Gilligan up by the collar two feet off the ground. "You lookin' for trouble, shorty?" he said gruffly.

Gilligan swallowed the giant lump in his throat and squeaked, "No. Actually, people usually say that I'm the trouble….."

"Oh, really?" Green Hankie said with a sarcastic tone. "Think you're pretty tough, huh?"

"Oh, no, no! That's not what I meant!" Gilligan exclaimed, trying to reach down to the ground with his tiptoes. He was surely in for a beating unless something intervened.

"Sawall?" the captain's voice boomed right over Green Hankie's shoulder. Sawall immediately dropped Gilligan, who, not anticipating his salvation, fell onto his backside.

Sawall turned to face the captain, and meekly said, "Sir?" By this time, no one was jump-jacking, and instead the whole troupe was focusing on Sawall and the captain, and more specifically what the captain would do.

"Do you have a problem, sailor?" the captain wanted to know, looking the frightened man in the eye.

"N-no sir," Sawall replied quietly.

"Of course you don't!" Jonas cried. "No one who peels potatoes should have anything to complain about."

"Sir?" Sawall asked.

"Below decks, now!" the captain bellowed.

"Yes, sir!" Sawall saluted the captain and stumbled off, tail tucked firmly between his legs, to the kitchen where a dull paring knife and a hundred potatoes awaited him.

Gilligan stood up and faced the captain. "Thank you, sir," he said gratefully.

"Well, there's no room for violence on my ship, sailor," the captain warmly responded. "Now drop and give me fifty! All of you!" he howled.

NoV: Okay! That's chapter one! Tell me what you think!


	3. The Rising Water

The ship was just a few days away from Lang Pao and making good time. The captain stood at the helm of the ship, confident that his crew was making short work of the various cleaning and maintenance jobs he had assigned earlier that morning. It was convenient to have a co-captain on board, if only just to take over while the captain was drilling the troops, but Jonas wouldn't trade anything in the world for steering the massive, powerful machine through the open seas. Ernest, the co-captain was sound asleep in his bunk, grateful for the day off.

Jonas noticed, absent-mindedly, that a dense, compacted fog was beginning to roll in over the ship. It was nothing. He had seen far worse without a storm ever breaking through. Despite his confidence, however, he turned on his little radio when he saw grey clouds condensing overhead.

"…..reports that Hurricane Leila is gaining strength over the Pacific Ocean near Korea. Heavy winds and much rainfall should be expected in those areas beginning at around 6:20 p.m. and possibly blowing into the coast of Korea's seaports at around 9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. Structural damages should be expected. This station will keep you up to date with new reports on Hurricane Leila ten minutes after every hour."

Jonas turned the radio off. He looked up at the sky, spotting a flash of lightning in the darkening clouds. He fished through a sea of appliances and navigational tools on his desk and found his walkie-talkie. Adjusting it to the right station, he called his co-captain. "Ernie, sorry about this, but you'd better get up here. It looks like we may be in for a heck of a storm. Over."

"Copy that. I'm coming. Over."

"Maybe we can steer around this thing," the captain said to himself, staring into the darkness in front of the ship.

--

At 6:00 p.m., it was evident that there was no way to get around the storm. The deck was already covered with an inch of rainfall. All the crewmen were below in their bunks or on duty because above deck the wind was blowing so hard in so many directions that you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.

Gilligan was grateful to be off duty. He was also grateful that his bunkmate Corey was _on_ duty. He had lit a small red candle and set it on the desk next to his bed. He quietly stared at a picture of his girl back home: Herman the turtle. If only he could be back home with her and his mother's cooking.

The rocking rhythm of the ship soon lulled him into slumber.

--

In his dreams, Gilligan was running through a tranquil forest. Sure, the trees were peppermint-striped and the rocks were bubble-gum shaped, but in Gilligan's mind, this was a very peaceful, normal forest. Soon after he started running, the hard ground turned marshy. Then, he was darting to avoid puddles that seemed to anticipate where his foot would land.

Before he could turn around and go back the other way, the entire ground had turned to water, and his momentum sent him skidding across the ground like it was an iced-over pond. The trees were now businessmen in suits, who kept saying, "THUD. THUD. THUD." The bubble gum rocks had turned into jagged stones that oozed black slime. Then the forest abruptly ended at a cliff, which Gilligan tumbled over headfirst.

--

When Gilligan woke up, he had his face planted half in a pile of Corey's laundry and half in the floor. His legs were still sprawled out over the bed, his stomach precariously hovering above the candle. And…..his face was wet. And the floor was wet. And his bed was wet. And the water was rising. And his belongings were floating around in it. And he could have drowned!

"And I've gotta get out of here!" Gilligan said out loud. He lowered the rest of his body to the floor, watching carefully for the candle, grabbed his raincoat that had remained dry in the desk drawer, stood up quickly and slammed his head into a cross-beam.

Back into the water he fell, his upper body luckily propping itself against the bed. With his head lolled back on the comfortingly soft structure, Gilligan this time dreamt about stars.

--

NoV: There's chapter two! Feedback!


	4. The Loss

The captain braced the wheel with all his strength, trying to keep the massive ship under control. The force of the wind tried its best to steal the safety of the ship and it crew from his pained grasp.

"Ernie!" he called to the co-captain, who was standing by the gears. "Drop the anchor! We'll have to just ride this out! I can't steer her!"

"Aye, captain!" Ernest replied. It was difficult for the two men to hear each other, even shouting, over the roar of the waves, the thunder, and the engine.

Ernest grabbed a thin green raincoat and turned the doorknob leading to the deck. The wind tore the door from his grip and hurled it into the outside wall. Water and debris began flooding the engine room. Ernest staggered outside, bracing himself into the wind, and used all his might to close the door. Once it had clicked shut, he began to make his way toward the anchor side of the ship.

The captain was watching his co-captain, hoping that the young man could handle this task on his own.

One of the sailors ran into the room, startling the captain. "Sir," he said, panting for breath. His name was Wassermann. "The cargo hold's completely flooded. All the perishables have been destroyed. And now the bunks are starting to flood!"

The captain, wide-eyed, shook his head in disbelief. "We must've hit something on the bottom and tore a hole in the hull!" he exclaimed, warily. He glanced outside at Ernest, who had made it to the anchor, but was having difficulty releasing it. "Wassermann, go help the co-captain drop anchor," he ordered. "Then I'm ordering an abandon ship."

"But, sir," Wassermann argued, "if we get into those lifeboats, the storm'll kill us!"

"Boy, those lifeboats are strong enough to hold up through a typhoon! And I don't want you questioning my orders again!" he roared. "Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Wassermann saluted and exited the engine room to assist the co-captain.

The captain, his eyes trained on the two men struggling with the anchor sent out a short Mayday over the short wave system, hoping someone would soon come to their aid. He then grabbed the overhead loudspeaker that went to the bunks. "Attention all men below decks on and off duty: begin deploying lifeboats and rafts for an abandon ship. I repeat: abandon ship and don't waste any time!"

Ernest and Wassermann finally succeeded in releasing the anchor. The two men gripped the side of the ship, waiting for the sudden stop. The impact knocked Wassermann down. Ernest reached down to help him up. That's when the captain noticed the huge wave that was headed for the two vulnerable men.

Jonas ran to the window, flung it open and cried, "ERNIE! WASSERMANN! GET OUT OF THERE!"

But the two men couldn't hear him over the storm. The wave slammed into the ship, washed over Ernest and Wassermann, and when it had drained back into the ocean, they had disappeared from the deck.

The captain turned away from the window and put his face in his hands. If only it had been him that had gone to drop anchor. He could have gotten it on the first try, but instead, he had sent his good friend, and a poor, innocent kid, and they had been lost. He stood there, silently, taking in a quiet moment in their memory.

When he looked up, he saw the rest of the crew slowly creeping across the deck toward the lifeboats. He stood there, silently, as every one of them left the ship and entered the water in tiny boats.

The captain would go down with his beloved ship.

--

NoV: Okay! That's chapter three! Let me know what you think!


	5. The Awakening

When Gilligan woke up for the third time that day (once before breakfast, and once after the flood started, and now once again, he remembered), he thought maybe he was back home in California. His friend Skinny Mulligan had had a fair-sized pool and often did he drift off to sleep after swimming for hours in it.

However, before he could relax himself into going back to sleep, Gilligan realized that he was inside. And wearing his clothes. His sailor uniform. So, like waking from a good dream and falling back asleep to a nightmare, Gilligan processed all of the valid information: he was sailing; the SS Gillis; Korea; the navy; the admiral…..or was it the captain?; the room was flooding; water up to his neck now; pruny fingers; water still rising. DOES NOT COMPUTE, his brain tried to tell him. He stood up, and found that the water was up to his waist when he was standing. Corey was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was still on duty.

Gilligan's senses told him to leave the room, which he did. Then, on his own, he came up with the idea to check the other bunks. The others guys might still be sleeping and not know about the flood. Or, maybe the flood had only occurred in his bunk.

He knocked on the door next to door, the water from his open room flooding into the hallway. "Sam! Scott! Are you guys in there? There's a flood in my room!" he called to the two men that had occupied the next room. Too bad these rooms didn't have portholes.

He tried to gain the attention of the men who stayed in a few more of the rooms in the hall, but with no luck.

Then, a terrible thought gripped him: what if everyone else had drowned? He had to let the lieutenant know immediately! Or was it the commander?

Gilligan ran up to the top deck. When he opened the door, he found himself in the middle of the greatest storm he had ever witnessed. The sails had long since been ripped from the metal rings that supported them. Water, debris and even fish littered the deck. "And I just mopped it this morning!" he complained, as a spray of rainwater splashed in his face. It reminded him of why he had come to the top level in the first place.

Like a skinny tree trying to withstand tornado-force winds, Gilligan struggled across the deck to reach the captain's control room, all the while, crying, "Captain! Corporal! Administrator of Defense! Your Leadership!"

--

The captain stood calmly at the helm to his ship, watching the destructive force tear across his mighty ship. If ever he had been ready to die, this was the day. His sins had been unforgivable, and had cost two innocent lives. This was fair penance for such a mistake. He only hoped that when he made it to that great big ocean in the sky, they would let him come aboard.

His final moments would be the most peaceful he had had since the day he was born. But, come to think of it, birth wasn't all that peaceful. On second thought, this would be the most peaceful day since the day his mother had brought him home from the hospital……although, his father had fainted when he saw the bill…..in any case these would be a very peaceful, very calm, tranquil, placid, serene few moments.

"SKIPPER!" The door flew open and in ran a soggy, distraught boy.

The newly named Skipper could only stare in bizarre annoyance at the skinny little kid that was wringing his shirt out. "Gilligan," he said, calmly. "Why aren't you on a lifeboat?"

"Lifeboat?" Gilligan repeated, looking him in the eye. "How can you expect me to go off in a lifeboat to safety when all the crew has drowned?"

The Skipper jumped to his feet and grabbed Gilligan by the shoulders. "The crew's all drowned?" he asked, incredulously. "Oh, no….." He released the young man and went back to his helm. "I should have listened to Wassermann when he told me the lifeboats weren't strong enough."

"Sir?" Gilligan wondered.

The Skipper ignored him. "Now, I've gotten them all killed……"

"Um…..Skipper?" Gilligan said politely.

"All those poor mothers, never getting to see their sons again……"

"Sir?"

"Why, if I ever showed my face there again, they'd hang me!"

"Look, Skipper—"

"They'd put me up in the stockades and let the whole state of California jeer and curse at me!"

"Skipper, really, it's just a misunderstanding—"

"I'm a traitor to the United States Navy….."

"Skipper, didn't you say—"

"WHAT, Gilligan, WHAT IS IT?" the Skipper demanded, turning to face him.

"Uhh…..well, Skipper, did you say that the crew went out in the lifeboats?" Gilligan finally got to ask.

"Yes, Gilligan, weren't you with them?"

"Well, not exactly," the young man confessed. "I was asleep, and when I woke up the room was flooded, so when no one else would answer me, I figured that they had all slept through the flood and drowned."

The Skipper rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Gilligan! How could you have been asleep while the room got filled with water?"

"Well, I wasn't exactly asleep," he admitted. "You see, I hit my head on this thing that was in the ceiling—"

"Gilligan, I ought to wring your neck for scaring me half to death, making me think I'd sunk my whole crew!" the Skipper roared.

"Well, it shouldn't have bothered you, since you did such a fine job of sinking your whole ship," Gilligan added, helpfully.

"Never mind that now, Gilligan, we've got to find a way off of this deathtrap!" the Skipper exclaimed, heading for the door.

Gilligan headed him off, blockading the door. "Oh, no!" he said. "It's the captain's duty to go down with the ship, and I'm not gonna let you pass that up on my account!"

"Gilligan, cut that out!" The Skipper tried to get around him.

Gilligan maneuvered to impede the Skipper's exodus on every attempt the poor captain made. "No way! Even if you drown, which you should since the ship is sinking, at least no one can say you were a coward!"

"Gilligan, stop it! Sometimes there are circumstances in which the captain has to act above his duty to go down with the ship and do the opposite, which would be saving himself for a premature death!" Skipper insisted.

But, Gilligan persevered. "Because that's something I'll never call you is a coward! Why if someone ever says, 'Hey, was the Skipper of the SS Gillis a coward?', I'll say 'No way!'"

Finally, exasperated, the Skipper physically lifted his blight, and stood him aside. He turned the doorknob and said, "If you don't mind, Gilligan, I'd rather be a coward."

Just as they were about to go back above, a great flash of lightning struck the deck. Gilligan, frightened, jumped up into the Skipper's arms.

Crackles of light frazzled across the inch of water for a few moments.

"Gilligan!" the Skipper exclaimed, putting his ward down. "We could have been electrocuted! You just saved us by being foolish!"

Gilligan said, smiling, "Finally, I'm not in trouble for being myself."

--

NoV: That's chapter four, which I am very proud of! Let me know whatcha think!


	6. The Rescue

NoV: I didn't even realize it until today, but this is my 75th fic! (throws confetti) Yay me!

--

The Skipper and Gilligan traipsed heavily across the deck. The force of the wind was worse than it had been only minutes earlier, for now they were in the full might of Hurricane Leila.

Gilligan had latched his hands onto the Skipper's belt, following closely behind the larger fellow. He gripped the leather belt tightly, fearing that if he were to let go, he may be blown away. The Skipper was steadily taking one small step at a time, trudging slowly across the slippery floor.

"Gilligan!" he called as loud as his throat would allow. The wind, rain and lightning created a sort of abyss, where sound traveled only faintly and breathing was now a most difficult undertaking. "We've got to hope that there's a lifeboat left over there. If not, there's little chance that we're gonna get off of this ship."

Gilligan merely nodded, concentrating solely on not becoming airborne.

Below the deck, the water had risen to the top of the ceiling, and was slipping through cracks in the doors to flow into the hallways. Soon, the ship would be so far underwater that the seawater would flood over the tops of the deck, bringing the whole thing down.

The Skipper stood aghast when he made it to the side of the ship. He gripped the railing and stared into the face of the mighty storm. The clouds on the horizon formed a black blanket that stretched out over the ship and on into the sea. The water was ripped into a torrent of angry waves and forceful blows against the worm vessel. No lifeboats remained.

Skipper turned to face Gilligan, shaking his head in worry. "There's no rafts left, Gilligan!" he shouted to the boy. "Let's try and make it back to the cabin! There are some life jackets in there! It's better than nothing!"

Before the Skipper could begin to trudge back toward the cabin of the doomed ship, Gilligan stopped him. "Wait Skipper!" he exclaimed, pointing off into the ocean. "Look!"

The Skipper turned his head, squinting his eyes and looking into the distance. A beacon of optimism shone through the bleakness of the storm. A small, motored coastguard's boat was slowly skimming toward the doomed S.S. Gillis.

The Skipper's face turned from squinty to rhapsody. "We're saved, Gilligan, WE'RE SAVED!" he cried, nearly jumping for joy.

Gilligan did jump, and when he landed, slipped down on the water.

"Gilligan, would you quit horsing around?" Skipper asked, helping him up.

"Sorry, Skipper, I was excited!" Gilligan said loudly.

The benevolent coastguard pulled his boat next to the Skipper's ship. "I received an SOS. You guys need some help?" he called to them.

"YES!" the two men yelled back.

The coastguard shimmied his small vessel as close as he could get it to the ship. He was close to the same level as the deck of the S.S. Gillis, and in a matter of minutes, he would be above it. "Get on quickly!" he instructed.

"Go ahead, Gilligan!" the Skipper commanded, gesturing for the lad to go first.

Gilligan refused, saying, "No, Skipper, you go first!"

"Gilligan, this is no time to argue!" the Skipper argued. "I order you to get on that boat!"

"But, Skipper—"

"No buts! Move it!" the Skipper bellowed.

Gilligan saluted, and tried balancing himself to have one foot on the sinking Gillis and one on the coastguard's rescue boat, without success, of course. The Skipper watched, exasperated, as the clumsy kid pushed the coastguard's boat further away while trying to mount it. Soon, one leg was way out to sea, and the other was still hanging onto to the Gillis.

"Gilligan, be careful!" the Skipper yelled, just before the strain on Gilligan's legs became too much and he plopped down in the water between the Gillis and the rescue boat.

The Skipper stood, mouth agape for a couple of seconds. When Gilligan's hat floated up to the top, with no Gilligan under it, he dove into the raging sea. Though the salty water stung his eyes and the deadly current tried to tear his body in all different directions, the Skipper reached his protégé in only a few seconds.

The coastguard scanned the surface of the water, fearing the worst before the Skipper, followed closely by Gilligan, appeared. The coastguard reached in, grabbing Gilligan by the collar, and pulled him up onto the boat. The Skipper lifted himself up moments later.

As the coastguard radioed his station and began to skim around the full front of the storm, Gilligan looked heavily at the Skipper. He coughed once, and said, "Thank you, Skipper. You saved my life!"

The Skipper wrung the water out of his hat. "Don't mention it, Little Buddy."

--

NoV: Yay! Chapter five! What'd you think?


	7. The Harbor

Skipper and Gilligan sat on the smallish decks of the smallish excursion boat, watching the legendary S.S. Gillis sink to the bottom of the ocean. They stared in silence for nearly an hour, not hearing the coastguard when he urged them to come into the control room out of the rain.

Soon, the mighty trade ship was gone completely.

When the two sailors felt the rain hitting them for the first time, though it had been pelting them for an hour, it felt light and even refreshing, like a calm spring shower. The two men stood on flimsy legs and turned toward the west, the direction the boat was heading. They both smiled a little, whimsical smile, seeing the most beautiful sight in the whole world: the sun was slicing down the water and into the horizon. They were beyond the storm.

--

Lang Pao Harbor was bustling with excitement when Philips, the coastguard, dropped them off there early the next morning. They had spent the night, sleeping quite soundly, in the remote coastguard station a mile offshore. Skipper had taken the beaten and worn couch; Gilligan had been more than happy to crash on the floor with a duffel bag for a pillow.

The following morning, the Skipper's objective was to get to the airport and to get on a commercial flight back to the states.

The Harbor was full of merchants, selling obscure and bizarre items. As Skipper and Gilligan walked down the strip, traders called to them from every booth. Some were Korean statements, some Chinese, but, surprisingly to Gilligan, most were in broken English.

"Suit for gentleman!"

"Fry dumpling!"

"Necklace for girlfriend!"

"Big pig!"

Gilligan nearly got taken on the pigs and almost bought one, but luckily the Skipper dragged him away. "You're not bringing any pigs on the plane!" he bellowed.

The odd couple managed to make it to the airport, only having to buy a map and a box of hand-fried donuts, which they didn't have to carry in their hands for too long.

Right beyond some low-cost housing and areas that could have been legally declared slums stood the out-of-place clean, Americanized airport. In its paved parking lots sat fleets of clean, Americanized cars.

Gilligan looked at the airport, then behind him at the run-down neighborhood, then back and forth again. "Did we just cross the Korea/California border?" he wondered.

The Skipper nodded. "It's like a whole different world," he agreed.

--

NoV: That's chapter seven! Tell me what you think!


	8. The Discussion

Their flight left Lang Pao at 11:35 a.m. Skipper and Gilligan sat next to each other, Gilligan beside the window. They had to switch planes in Hawaii, then it would be a straight shot to Los Angeles.

"Hey, Skipper," Gilligan wondered a few minutes after they had taken off. "What are we gonna do when we get back to California?"

"We?" the Skipper repeated. "I don't know about _you_, but _I_ am going back to the navy to see about getting a new ship and crew."

"I'll be part of your crew, then," Gilligan amiably said.

The Skipper sighed. "Look, Gilligan, why don't you just go back home? I'm sure if you go down to the navy base with me, I can get you your discharge papers."

"Go home?" Gilligan cried. "I can't go home! I want to stay in the navy! I won't betray my captain, not after all we've been through together! Besides, my father said if he never saw me again, it would be too soon."

"Oh, that's terrible," the Skipper lamented. "Imagine. Your own dad saying that the day you leave to join the navy!"

"No, he said that the day they brought me home from the hospital," Gilligan corrected. ()

"Now, listen, Gilligan, I'm grateful for your bravery on the S.S. Gillis and all that, but to be honest, I'd rather _not_ have you join my next crew," Skipper stated. "But, please feel free to sign up with any _other _captain in the business."

Gilligan propped his head on his elbow and faced the window. "Some friend," he mumbled.

--

The plane soon landed before Gilligan could request his 18th bag of peanuts. The Skipper thought that he would have to be committed after listening to his young comrade yammer on and on for eight solid hours. That was pretty tough to listen to, considering nothing the boy said made any sense. "My cousin Ralph did this, my friend Skinny did that, my father can grate cheese with his teeth in his sleep!"

When the stewardess thanked all the passengers and instructed them on how to exit, the Skipper stood on wobbly Jell-O legs. "The navy'll never take me now," he said, wryly to himself. "I'm too shaky." ()

--

Out in the terminal, Gilligan tried to strike up a conversation that would interest his overweight pal. "So, Skipper, we've got three hours before we get on the next plane. Why don't we get some lunch?"

"Because, Gilligan, it's almost eight o'clock at night," the Skipper replied irritably.

"Then, let's have breakfast!" Gilligan exclaimed, perkily.

Skipper watched Gilligan walk on ahead, as if he were in a daze. He rolled his eyes, muttering," Breakfast."

--

"I'll have three eggs, scrambled, a stack of chocolate pancakes and strawberry syrup please," Gilligan said to the overworked waitress. The pair had found probably the only restaurant still open on the island of Molokai at that hour.

The waitress rolled her make-up-crusted eyes. "And what about you, hon?" she asked the Skipper in a hoarse voice.

He glanced at the menu, to remind himself of his order. "I'll have a bacon cheeseburger, no onions, and an order of fries, ma'am."

"Okay," she said, "I'll have that right out for you." She walked toward the kitchen, mumbling something about "Breakfast served all day, what a crock…."

Gilligan stared out the large window into the black ocean. "It's so beautiful here," he said, dreamily.

"How can you even tell?" the Skipper said, huffily. "It's pitch-black out there."

"We should live here," Gilligan continued, ignoring his aggravated pal. "We could start our own business right here and live forever in paradise…."

"Since when are you all philosophical?" Skipper asked out of morbid curiosity.

"Just watching those waves hit the beach like it's the first time it's ever happened…..makes me feel so….." He paused, sniffing the air. "My pancakes are done!"

The Skipper rolled his eyes. "I was beginning to worry….." he said, offhandedly.

--

NoV: Okay, it's leading up to the climax now…..perhaps the second climax…..anyway, hope you enjoyed, stay tuned for chapter eight!

()This was sort of a joke from Dobie Gillis about Maynard's father not being able to stand him. Gilligan on that part reminded me of it, so I figured I'd use it.

()This was also from Dobie Gillis, something Mr. Pomfritt said once.


	9. The Pain

--Edited for accuracy--

Once the two sailors had finished their breakfast and dinner, respectively, they left twenty dollars on the table, giving the waitress a little over six dollars for her tip.

The Skipper glanced at his watch as they exited the grateful-to-be-closing restaurant. Their waitress locked the door as soon as they went through it. "We'd better make tracks if we're gonna make our plane," Skipper said, staring at the rude waitress.

"We've still got time," Gilligan insisted.

"It'll take us fifteen minutes to hike back to the airport. Then we'll have to go through all the people trying to book flights and—we've gotta get a move on!" the Skipper rambled.

"It's only eight-thirty," Gilligan added. "If we wanted to, we could go to that arcade." He pointed across the street at a shady-looking building that said "GAME-RO M" in neon lights.

Skipper spotted a long-neck bottle in the window. "Gilligan, that's a bar with a pool room, and we _really_ don't have time for _that_."

"Pool?" Gilligan repeated excitedly. "My friend Skinny Mulligan had a pool when we were kids and one time we almost drowned at the same time!"

The Skipper was getting aggravated again. "Oh, Gilligan, first of all, I'm not talking about _tha_t kind of pool, and second of all, how did you two manage to almost drown at the _same time_?"

"We had a contest to see who could hold their breath longer."

"Underwater?"

"No. Above."

Skipper, worn down by these ridiculous stories, searched for an outlet for his anger. He grabbed the only easily detachable part of his clothing, his hat, and whacked his lackey's head with it. "Gilligan!" he yelled. "If you say one more stupid thing like that tonight, I'm gonna kill you!"

Skipper stepped off the sidewalk and into the road. Then, everything after happened so quickly, yet so slowly in his mind. A flash of light whipped around the corner. Like the panopticon prison, he couldn't see it coming, but he knew it was coming, nonetheless. The headlights of the car burned his eyes, like the terror that was burning in his soul. He felt nausea and wanted to throw up. He was frozen with fear to the spot where he stood.

Gilligan didn't know how he did it. A more educated person might have said that it was a rush of adrenaline in a time of panic. Gilligan guessed that he was just a lot stronger than he thought he was. Even though he had never been on the high school football team, Gilligan assumed a defensive tackle position and heaved his shoulder into the Skipper's side with the force of a charging bull. Immediately after, Gilligan felt the immense pain surge through his right shoulder.

Skipper hit the pavement hard, throwing out his hands reflexively to catch himself. They bled and stung, and his knee felt like it had been crushed when he landed.

Seconds later, Gilligan felt the impact of the car. He could hear the brakes screaming out because they were punched so suddenly and with such force. His legs were pushed out from under him and his upper body crashed onto the hood of the car. Immediately, he felt pain on his face and his chest.

The driver of the car cried out in a dialect the Skipper did not recognize as Gilligan rolled off the car and onto the road, unconscious.

--

NoV: CLIFFHANGER!


	10. The Staff

--edited for accuracy--

"Well, let's see…. you've shattered the bone in your kneecap and got some nasty cuts on your hands, but other than that, you're fine, Mr. Grumby," the middle-aged doctor said. He looked to be of German descent. "We'll get you bandaged up and you'll be good to go!"

Skipper sat on a cold metal table in a freezing, white hospital room at the Molokai Medical Center's emergency room. When he, the still unconscious Gilligan, and the Hawaiian driver involved in the accident had arrived at the hospital, Gilligan had been taken to a room to be seen right away. The Skipper, having suffered less-serious traumas had sat with the monolingual driver in the waiting room for three and a half hours. Now it was nearly midnight and he had not yet heard a word on Gilligan's condition.

As the doctor unwound a generous amount of a bandage roll, Skipper said, "Do you know if my—" –he searched for the right phrase to clarify his fondness for the boy-  
"—my…..little buddy is doing better, Dr……Knapp?"

Dr. Knapp began carefully wrapping the tan bandage around the Skipper's right knee. I haven't heard, sorry. I could ask the nurse to check for you. What's the name?"

"It's Gilligan," Skipper replied. "Will I be able to go see him? I feel kind of responsible for what happened and I'm really worried about him."

"It all depends on his condition, but I'll say probably," Dr. Knapp answered, not taking his eyes off of his work even once. He finished mending the Skipper's hands and said, "Okay, stay off that knee as much as you can for the next week or so, and take it easy. The nurse will be with you in a few minutes with some papers for you to sign and I'll ask her to check on your friend for you."

"Thanks, Doctor," Skipper said warmly.

"You're quite welcome," he said, and left the room.

Skipper glanced at the curtain sealing off the next bed's privacy, and then lay down on the table. He silently stared above him, seeing not the white ceiling, but the black car coming for him. He saw the bright yellow headlights like two cat eyes glaring him down. He saw the deserted street where he knew he would breathe for the last time. He felt the great force that belted him in the side and knocked him down. He saw the gravelly pavement rushing up at him. He felt the stinging pain in his hands and stabbing pain in his knee. He heard the screeching brakes and the quick cry of pain Gilligan made. He felt the terror starting in his stomach and rising to his heart. He saw Gilligan crumble to the ground in an awkward position in front of the motionless beast that had thrashed him.

These images cane to him again and again, sometimes in the wrong order, until the nurse meekly entered the room, startling him.

He sat up quickly and immediately regretted it. His knee seethed with pain.

"Hello again, Mr. Grumpy," she said, teasingly mispronouncing his name.

Skipper smiled. This was the same sweet, beautiful nurse who had first taken him to be x-rayed. She was tall and wore the common white nursing outfit. She had silky blond hair put back in a messy bun. Her impish face tinged with mischief whenever she talked.

"Hello, Nurse Kayla," Skipper said kindly. "They just keep sending you to me. It must be fate."

She laughed. "Must be." She handed him a form and pen on a clipboard. "Just sign at the bottom of the first two pages and we'll go see how your friend is doing," she said.

The Skipper's face brightened. "I can go see him? Oh, that's wonderful news!" he exclaimed, eagerly signing the papers. He then handed Kayla the clipboard and hopped down from the table, another painful mistake. With one hand on the table and one cupping his hurt knee, Skipper drew in an audible breath.

Kayla empathetically drew in some air herself. "Oh, I'll bet that hurt! Are you okay? Do you need me to get your some crutches or a wheelchair?"

"No, no!" Skipper insisted, standing upright. "I'll walk it off! Which way to Gilligan?"

Kayla smiled. "Come with me."

--

NoV: I know you're thinking "What! We _still_ don't know what's happened to Gilligan?" Don't worry! Chapter 10 will be up soon with all the answers!

I was looking at a page on German last names for the doctor, and one of them was Maynard! I was soooooo tempted to make him Dr. Maynard, but I restrained myself so as not to appear so effortless.

One of the things I'm paranoid about. Please let me know if there weren't x-rays in the '60's so I can correct it.

Again, I'm not sure if nurses wore scrubs or if they all wore those white dresses and hats.


	11. The Damage

--edited for accuracy--

Kayla led the Skipper to the elevator. They went up two floors, walked around a maze of hallways and ended up at a dark, silent door.

"This is it," she said quietly, giving the Skipper a small supportive smile.

Skipper nodded and slowly turned the doorknob, not wanting to make any sound. He held his breath and dared a look inside the still room.

The light was off, but some light from the next room filtered in through the cracks in the blinds. The only sound was the steady breathing from the occupant. Gilligan lay motionless, his eyes closed peacefully. He had a bandage wrapped around his forehead, two or three small cuts and a bruise on his face. An IV had been inserted into his right hand, and he had a bandage wrapped around his upper arm right underneath his shoulder.

The Skipper began to get teary-eyed as he observed the damage. He went over and sat in a chair next to the bed. "Oh, Little Buddy…..you're such a mess," he softly lamented.

Kayla, shaken up by this display of compassion, moved over to the Skipper's side. She placed her soft hand on his shoulder, sympathetically.

Skipper looked up at her. "Is he going to be okay?"

Kayla swallowed a lump in her throat. "Dr. Moss, who made the diagnosis, said that there aren't any broken bones, just the cracked shoulder. But, he thinks that Gilligan may be in a coma."

The Skipper physically and mentally depressed. He sank down in the chair, trying to let this information sink in. "Is he going to wake up?" he asked so quietly, almost as if he didn't want to hear the answer.

"There's no way to tell," Kayla said, downcast. She brightened significantly. "But, I'm hopeful that he'll be awake very soon!" She patted the Skipper's shoulder. "Don't worry. It's all gonna be okay. I've got to get back to work, but I'll come check on you guys in a few hours."

She began to walk toward the door, leaving the despairing man sitting alone in the shadows. She paused and turned around. She couldn't leave him like that. "Um…..look, why don't you talk to him? Tell him about some of the things he's done. Sometimes it helps to bring the person back if they hear about their past."

Skipper nodded. "I'll try anything," he said sincerely.

Kayla shot him one last optimistic smile before going back to her other patients.

Skipper scooted the heavy chair closer to the bed. He propped his elbow on his knee, placing his chin gently in his scalped palm. He sighed, and said, "Well, Gilligan, where do I begin?"

--

The end.

NoV: Just kidding! We must first see how Gilligan comes out of the coma and how did they get themselves into the "three hour tour" business! This one was short, I know, but I only had one point I wanted to make. Chapter eleven shall be up soon as I write it!


	12. The Dreams

"You joined the navy about a month ago. You were assigned to my recruitment ship, the SS Gillis. We were headed for Korea to make a trade," Skipper began. He felt foolish, like he was talking to a wall. Gilligan showed no sign that he had heard anything. Skipper continued. "On the first day, I made you peel potatoes." He paused and thought for a moment. "I'm the captain, but for some reason, you started calling me Skipper." He sighed. He had assumed that he would get some kind of response by this time.

Skipper took Gilligan's hand in his. "Gilligan, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

Nothing.

Skipper glanced at his watch. It was one-thirty in the morning. "I'm not going to get anywhere tonight," he decided.

--

When Kayla peeked inside the room half an hour later, she found the Skipper with his face and arms laying on the edge of the bed, and the rest of him stretching out from the chair.

From her point of view, the scene looked like a father who had fallen asleep reading to his son.

She smiled and quietly shut the door.

--

Gilligan was walking down a dark pier, fog from the body of water underneath rolling over it. The pier was very rickety and seemed as if it could collapse at any moment.

There were voices calling out to him from the water, but he could neither see them nor understand what they were saying.

As he walked, the fog got less and less thick until he began to see a tiny light peeking through. The voices had stopped now, and the pier had gradually become sturdier until it looked brand-new.

Soon, he found that the source of the light was a lighthouse in the distance. He made it to the edge of the pier and stopped there. He could now see that the lighthouse was on the shore on the other side of the water.

Then, something bit his hand. He looked to see what it was, but it had gone.

So, he jumped into the water and began to swim across. The voices were back and he could now hear some of the words they were saying. He heard his name, the word "navy," and then "potatoes," then they stopped talking again.

He briefly got his hand caught in some seaweed, but was quickly freed.

He would make it to the lighthouse in no time.

--

"We had to change planes here in Hawaii, so you suggested that we get some breakfast—even though it was almost eight o'clock at night!" Skipper was saying. He had woken up at around seven a.m. when another doctor had come in to check on Gilligan. He had left to find some breakfast, since it was the right time for it, but unsuccessfully only found a vending machine filled with potato chips and gum.

So, after finishing his barbecue potato chips and walking around for a few minutes to exercise his knee, he had gone back to finish telling Gilligan about their adventure.

"We had a really rude waitress, but we left her a big tip anyway," Skipper said laughing at that memory. "You were really deep that night," he recalled. "You were talking about how beautiful the ocean was and how you'd love to live here." He paused. "Not here in the hospital, here in Hawaii," he clarified. Skipper looked at the wall, focusing on the memory.

--

Gilligan was so close to the lighthouse, in a few more strokes, he'd be there. Then, the voice was back. But, this time, it came in very clearly.

--

"You wanted for you and me to start a business and live here forever," Skipper said. He glanced back down at his immobile friend. "Gilligan, if you ever wake up—"

--

"—I swear, we'll start that business and we'll live in paradise forever, just like you wanted."

Gilligan, treading the water to stay in one place,turned his head back and forth, trying to find the source of the voice. He recognized it easily, but he couldn't figure out who it was.

--

Skipper leaned over his knees and put his face in his hands, dismally. He didn't notice Gilligan moving his head from side to side very faintly.

--

Before he could resume swimming toward the shore again, a great force pulled Gilligan straight down. He was sucked down through the water and thought he would drown. For some reason though, he didn't fight to get back to the surface, and all thoughts about the lighthouse had vanished.

--

Gilligan tried to cough up some of the water he had inhaled, but to his surprise, found that there was none. In fact, he was completely dry from head to toe. He opened his eyes and looked around the uncomfortably white room he found himself in.

Then, to his delight, he saw that the Skipper was sitting to his right, staring at him, mouth agape.

"That's not polite, Skipper," he said brazenly.

"Little Buddy!" Skipper cried, jumping to his feet. "Ow!" he wailed, grabbing his knee and stooping over. He gritted his teeth and said, "I'm so glad you're awake!"

"Why, is it time for drills?" Gilligan wondered. He curiously felt the bandaging on his forehead. "Did I slip and fall down?"

"No, Gilligan," Skipper answered. "A car hit you. You saved—"

"Was I in an accident?" Gilligan asked, still feeling the bandage.

Skipper gave him a sideways look. "Yes, Gilligan," he said. "I just told you that a car hit you."

"Oh," Gilligan said. He noticed the dressing wrapped around his upper arm. "Was I in an accident?"

--

NoV: Yay! Sorry this one took so long. I had to write an essay and it was none too pretty. (frown) Okay! Chapter 12 will be up soon!


	13. The Memory

_**Beware! Strong sexual content ahead!**_

--

"Don't worry. Short-term memory loss is characteristic in many concussion victims," the doctor assured Skipper. "Although, with this particular patient, who can tell?" he added, leaving the room.

Skipper sighed and tried to be cheerful when he turned back to Gilligan. "Well, the good news is that if everything checks out when the nurse gives you a check-up, we can go check-in to a hotel," he said, trying to be funny.

Gilligan just stared at him blankly.

"Anyhow, do you feel okay? Are you remembering anything about what happened?" Skipper wondered, sitting back in the uncomfortable chair.

Gilligan pushed himself up to a sitting position in the bed. He recoiled his right arm, feeling the pressure in his shoulder for the first time. "Well," he said, a strain in his voice, "I was walking, just minding my own business. Then I had to swim across the lake to get to the lighthouse……and everyone was talking to me, but I didn't see anybody, so I just kept swimming……"

Skipper stopped him, "Gilligan, I meant did you remember anything about the accident?"

"What accident?" Gilligan innocently pondered.

The Skipper sighed. "The car accident?"

Gilligan raised an eyebrow. "Do _you_ remember the car accident?"

"Of course _I_ remember the car accident! _I_ didn't hit my head! Just my knee," the Skipper grumbled, feeling his throbbing knee.

"Well, then _you_ tell _me_ what happened," Gilligan prompted.

"Well, we had just gotten through eating," Skipper began. "We were arguing, but I don't remember what about—"

"See, everybody forgets."

"Everybody doesn't forget the most terrifying moment of their lives!" Skipper exclaimed. "Anyway, then I stepped into the middle of the road, so we'd be on the side with the airport."

"Airport?" Gilligan questioned.

"Yes. We were going to fly back to California," Skipper answered.

"From where?"

"Hawaii," Skipper said. "We're still in Hawaii."

"Wow! I've never been to Hawaii! I'll bet it's beautiful," Gilligan mused.

"That's what you said before when you saw it," Skipper said sadly. He paused. "What _do_ you remember? Other than the lighthouse and the voices, I mean."

"Well, I remember being on a big boat and you yelled at me….."

--

NoV: Okay! No more hiatus! I know it's short, but it's all I can get today.

And I was just kidding about the whole "sexual content" thing.


	14. The Truth

_I'm still holding my breath,_

_Waiting for you to see me._

_I'll keep waiting 'til my death;_

_And you still won't be with me._

_I'm always alone, never happy,_

_But you don't care._

_I know that this can't be._

_Your sympathy is rare._

_Please don't touch me._

_You have other girls for that._

_You are my sweet melody,_

_But I don't know where I'm at._

-NoV (I had a bad day)

--

"Is that all you remember?" Skipper asked, worriedly.

"No, of course not," Gilligan replied. "Then, we were headed for Korea. Then there was a big storm. And my bunk flooded. And when I went to tell you, you thought that your whole crew was drowned! Well….so did I….then the coastguard rescued us. And we went to Korea. And I tried to buy a big, but you wouldn't let me. So, we took a plane, but we had to stop in Hawaii. We had a few hours before we had to switch flights, so we went to get breakfast….but I think _you_ got dinner. Anyway, then we started arguing, and you know, I don't remember what about either. Then you practically _jumped_ in front of a car, and I had to push you out of the way. _Then_, I was walking, just minding my own business, and then started swimming—"

"Oh, Gilligan, if I didn't have a busted knee, I'd wale on you!" Skipper threatened. "In fact, I only busted my knee because you pushed me down on the pavement."

Gilligan felt his shoulder again. "Hey, you know what? I only hurt my arm because I ran into your big, broad, fat—" the Skipper glared at him "—muscular side," he added.

"Gilligan, as soon as you're well again, I'm gonna kill you!" Skipper roared.

The nurse chose that moment to enter the room. "Good day, gentlemen," she said professionally. She had a small figure and brown hair. She set her clipboard down on the table next to Gilligan's bed. "How are you feeling, Mr. Gilligan?" she asked, adjusting her stethoscope in her ears, and placing the cold end on Gilligan's chest.

Gilligan blushed. "Fine," he squeaked.

"Breathe in—and out," she instructed. "Once more. In—out." She removed the stethoscope and placed it in her pocket. Wrote down some figures on her clipboard. "Would you like to try walking?"

"Sure!" Gilligan said.

The nurse and the Skipper helped Gilligan to stand up. Without their help, he marched a straight line to the far side of the room, pirouetted, and returned.

"Excellent, Mr. Gilligan!" the nurse said, scribbling down more notes. "I don't see any reason to keep you here any longer. Now, how old are you?"

"Eighteen," he replied, after carefully toying with the sum in his head.

"Then please sign here," she handed him a release form, which he signed, "and you're free to go! I hope we won't have to see you anytime soon, gentlemen." She gracefully left the room.

"Let's go have lunch!" Gilligan exclaimed.

"Let's put your clothes on first," Skipper insisted, pointing at Gilligan's hospital gown.

"Where are they?" Gilligan wondered, looking around.

--

Gilligan, now wearing a blue jump suit he'd borrowed from the hospital staff, and the Skipper headed back into town in search of a restaurant. They had to walk quite slowly, due to the Skipper's pain-stricken knee.

By the time they arrived at the little coconut-themed diner, it _was_ lunchtime.

They were seated by a much kinder waitress than the one they'd gotten the night before. "What can I get for you guys to drink?" the curly dark-haired waitress cheerfully asked.

"I'll take a cup of coffee," Skipper said.

"Soda," Gilligan simply said.

"I'll have it right out for you," she said, bubbly.

Gilligan peeked over his menu at the Skipper.

Skipper felt he was being watched and said, "What is it, Gilligan?"

"So what kind of business are we gonna have?" he asked.

Skipper's eyes got wide. He _would_ remember _that_! "What are you talking about?" he questioned, trying to pretend that he didn't know.

"You said we could start a business here in Hawaii," Gilligan reminded him.

"When did I say that?" Skipper wondered.

"When I was swimming," Gilligan replied. "It was the clearest voice I heard, and the only one that made any sense."

"It would be," Skipper muttered.

"So what do you want to do? We could sell t-shirts or print books or—"

"Oh, look! The waitress is back!" Skipper said, distractedly.

--

NoV: I tried to make this chapter longer and better to make up for my time off over the weekend. I hope it was good.

Sorry about the last chapter's trick, but I can't resist a good joke!


	15. The Idea

"Coffee and soda," the waitress said, placing the coconut cups on the table. When Skipper reached for his cup, revealing his bandaged hands, she wondered, "Say, what happened to you guys? You look like you got hit by a truck!"

"You're pretty close!" Gilligan informed her. "It was a car."

"A very small car," the Skipper added.

"That doesn't mean it couldn't've crushed us," Gilligan pointed out.

"Well, at least you're both okay, right?" she asked.

Neither of them answered; they just stared at each other.

"Okay, well, what would you like to eat?" the waitress asked, tactfully.

"I'll have prime rib and fries," the Skipper said, staring at the menu.

"Grilled cheese. Onion rings," Gilligan said.

"Okay," the waitress rolled her eyes.

The Skipper and Gilligan looked at each other.

"We would have so much fun starting a business together!" Gilligan exclaimed suddenly. "We could be our own bosses! Well, I mean, you could be the boss of me if you wanted!"

"No, Gilligan, N-O, NO!" the Skipper yelled. "It takes money to start a business, and where do you think that money will come from?"

"I have a savings bond," Gilligan offered.

"Oh, I'll bet you do," the Skipper sarcastically said. "And I'll bet you've got tons of money in there!"

"I do!" Gilligan said, defensively. "I bet I have almost—" he added on his fingers, "—sixteen dollars!"

"Gee, Gilligan, why don't we just retire as millionaires?" Skipper asked.

"Hey, what about you?" Gilligan wondered. "Don't you have some money put away for retirement? I mean, at your age, you'd have to be planning for it."

"First of all, that's none of your business, and second of all, I am saving that money for a boat," the Skipper said, reflectively. "A boat so that I can enjoy the sea in my old age, sailing around, fishing, visiting new places….."

"Well, why don't we get a boat, then? We could still sail to new places…..but we could take people with us…..and they would pay us!"

Before Skipper could declare the madness of this idea, the waitress came back with their entrees, and said, "You guys are looking for a boat? My brother Scott works at a shipping yard. He could probably get you a good deal on a nice little boat."

"See, Skipper!" Gilligan exclaimed.

"Gilligan, don't be ridiculous!" Skipper said, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle. "We—we don't have enough—"

"It'll be great!" Gilligan was telling the waitress. "You can have a free lifetime membership to our tours."

Skipper put his face gently in his hand. "Why me? Why not his parents?"

--

NoV: Okay! Good, good good…..This one took awhile, but I had a crisis. The girl that works at the store across from mine was robbed yesterday, and I had a lot of things to do.

Well, happy reading!


	16. The Shipyard

The shipyard had at least thirty dingy-looking boats, and maybe two or three nicer ones. The sun shone down onto the water, showing off the murky part of the ocean the boats were parked in. The Skipper, Gilligan in tow, walked around, turning up his nose at most of the boats he passed. Finally, after walking in circles, they found the main office.

Inside the air-conditioned, white-walled room sat a man in his late thirties, balding. He looked up, dully, when they entered the room. "May I help you gentlemen?" he asked in a monotone voice.

Gilligan propped himself on the desk, trying to imitate a mob movie he had once seen. "We're looking for Scott," he said, arching his eyebrow.

Skipper rolled his eyes, as did the man at the desk. "I'll see what I can do," the deskman sarcastically said. He stood up and disappeared through a door behind him, where he said, "Scott, I'm taking my lunch. You got customers."

Moments later, Scott ventured through the door. He was a young man who wore clothes resembling those a mechanic might wear. He had dark brown hair and a friendly smile. "Hey, guys! What can I help you with?" he asked.

"We're looking for a boat," Gilligan eagerly told him.

Scott got a good look at all the bandages and said, "Would you like to look at some insurance while you're at it?"

--

"This one's real tough. She's over thirty years old and can take on storms with the best of 'em!" Scott said, gesturing to a dirty, crusty old boat.

"Do you have any that are quite a bit younger?" Skipper asked politely. "We need to be able to attract customers."

"Yeah, we need a boat that's…….a teenager," Gilligan added.

"I think I know what you mean," Scott said slyly. "You want a sporty, stream-lined little thing that people will want to ride. Am I right?"

Skipper was unsure if this was the direction he wanted to go, but Gilligan piped up, saying, "Yeah!"

--

NoV: Short one, I know. Happy birthday to NoV! I'm nineteen!


	17. The Lost

The two men stared at the boat. It was a creamy white color with bluish trim. It was no more than twenty-five feet in length, and was sporty as a new red convertible.

"Would you guys like to check out the inside?" Scott asked, breaking the awed silence.

Snapping out of his daze, Skipper said, "Sure!"

They all three carefully boarded the tiny ship, Gilligan losing his balance only once.

"Deck feels sturdy," the Skipper noted, testing the strength of the floor by shifting his weight up and down. "Everything up here looks well taken care of. Let's see the control room." –AN-

"Right over here," Scott said, motioning for them to follow him. They entered through a whitewashed wooden door. Inside was a neat, furnished captain's quarters.

"Isn't this something?" Skipper mused. To him, the smallish control room was high-tech and interesting.

Gilligan stared at the ocean ahead. "It looks a lot different out there than it did from the SS Gillis," he stated.

"Yeah, I'll bet she handles a lot easier too," the Skipper agreed. "Compared to the Gillis, this ship is…..just a little minnow."

"So, do you guys wanna look at any others, or is this gonna be the one?" Scott asked, dollar signs dancing in his head.

The Skipper and Gilligan shot one another a short glance, and the Skipper nodded. "We'll take it," he said, then quickly added, "if it's got a reasonable price!"

"Did you give my sister a big tip?" Scott wondered.

"I told her she could get free rides on our boat," Gilligan said, helpfully.

Scott laughed. "Okay. Let's step back into the office."

Scott led the way out of the cabin onto the deck of the ship, followed by Gilligan and Skipper. As soon as they were outside again, they began to hear a small crying sound. It got closer and closer until they saw its source: a young Hawaiian girl, perhaps three years old running down the cement pier that bordered on the edge of the water. She ran past the boat they stood on, screaming and crying desperately.

Gilligan was the first to react; he disembarked the ship, without stumbling once, and ran after the girl. He caught up to her quickly and picked her up off the ground. She stared at him, terrified, with big, green, watery eyes.

Gilligan told her, "You shouldn't be running so near to the water! You might fall in!"

By this time, Scott and the Skipper had caught up to them. The little girl had her head laying on Gilligan's shoulder, saying, "_Makuahine, Makuahine_….."

"Where's your mommy?" Gilligan asked, stroking her long brown hair.

"Um….._Makuahine, aia i hea_?" Scott said, trying to remember the few Hawaiian words he had learned.

"_Kokua, Makuahine, Makua kane_!" she cried, shaking her head.

"What'd you say?" Skipper asked. "And what'd she say?"

"She was crying for her mom," Scott explained. "So I asked her if she knew where she was, but she just called for her mom and dad for help." He gently touched the girls' bare shoulder and, indicating Gilligan, said, "_Hoaloha_." To the Skipper and Gilligan, he said, "Her parents can't be too far off. I'm gonna go see if I can find them. Don't go anywhere." He jogged in the direction the little girl had come.

By this time, she was just crying silently, rubbing her face into Gilligan's borrowed jumpsuit.

"Skipper?" Gilligan asked, sounding tearful himself. "Let's buy her some ice cream."

"You stay here in case Scott comes back with her parents," Skipper said, looking around. He shrugged and walked off in a random direction. "Don't know where he expects me to find ice cream around here," he mumbled.

"Don't worry," Gilligan consoled her. "We'll find your mom and dad."

--

NoV: Sorry about the wait! I was busy! This chapter is actually based on a personal experience of mine involving a little Colombian girl. Til nexties!

AN: I know that the Minnow on the show didn't appear to have a control room. Screw it. I want a control room.

_Makuahine: _means mother.

_Aia i hea_: means where.

_Kokua_: means help.

_Makua kane_: means father.

_Hoaloha_: means friend.


	18. The Reunion

NoV: I just want to make this clear: in the last chapter when I said screw it in the author's notes, I wasn't yelling or complaining about any readers. I was just ready to break away from having to research specific details only to find that certain facts were hurting my plots. Therefore, from here on out, if something doesn't fit in with the Gilligan universe, just let it slide. No worries!

--

Gilligan sat on the edge of the cement, his feet dangling inches above the ocean. The Hawaiian girl was asleep on his lap, tired from her frightening experience.

"I hope that somebody gets here soon," he said to himself. "My leg's falling asleep…."

He shifted his achy leg, waking the little girl from her sound slumber.

"_Ohana, aia i hea_?" she asked, quietly.

"I wish I knew what you were saying," Gilligan remarked. He looked over his shoulder. "And I wish I knew where your family was."

"_Hoaloha_," she murmured, trying to reach her tiny arms around his middle for a hug.

Gilligan smiled. The two couldn't understand each other's words, but they understood on a different level what they wanted to say.

Gilligan smiled. The two couldn't understand each other's words, but they understood on a different level what they wanted to say.

"Aloalo!" a woman cried from a hundred yards away.

"_Makuahine_!" the girl said, in delight, recognizing her mother's voice.

Gilligan looked up to see a young couple, followed closely by Scott, running down the pavement, excitedly. He set Aloalo on the cement and she began to carefully run toward her parents.

Her mother scooped her up into her arms and held her tightly. Aloalo's father hugged them both, affectionately.

Scott joined Gilligan as the family talked all at once in their native tongue.

"Where'd you find them?" Gilligan asked.

"They were just a little bit further that way," he pointed, indicating the direction that Aloalo had run from, "and they were searching for their daughter. She got lost in a crowd at the market."

The mother, father, and Aloalo approached the two young men. "Thank you for find our baby," the mother said, gratefully in broken English.

"Now our family is one again," the father said.

"No problem," Gilligan said, sincerely.

"We owe you a big favor," her father told them. "If you ever need anything, just let us know. We live in a blue house right down on the beach."

--

NoV: Yai!


End file.
